


there is an indentation (in the shape of you)

by princessofthorns



Series: the wizarding world fic [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/F, Library Sex, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:35:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26792257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessofthorns/pseuds/princessofthorns
Summary: “We should go there and have sex!”When Ravenclaw prefect Sansa Stark told her girlfriend that she knew about a secret passage to the Shrieking Shack, she hadn’t been expecting that to be her reaction.Nor had she expected what that would lead to.
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell
Series: the wizarding world fic [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913557
Comments: 15
Kudos: 127





	there is an indentation (in the shape of you)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my story [once was blind (but now I see)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26173972). It works as a stand alone, I guess.
> 
> Sansa is 17 and Margaery is 18.

_When they had first gotten there, Sansa had been too nervous; because of the stories she had heard about the place, yes - and it hadn’t gotten any better once they'd stepped into the abandoned house and she’d realized that the walls actually seemed to be_ moving _,_ _slowly._

_But Margaery hadn’t given her much opportunity to think about that or anything else - her girlfriend had used both hands to pull Sansa’s face to hers; lips meeting hers in a searing kiss._

_And it had only gotten better. Sansa didn’t know how long they had been there. All she knew was that she was naked, sitting on the floor, back against the threatening wall of the Shrieking Shack, with a just as stripped Margaery straddling her._

_She drove two fingers in and out of her girlfriend as fast as she could, her palm bumping against her clit, while her other hand gently pulled Margaery’s hair down so she could have better access to the silky skin of her neck._

_Not that she needed to; Margaery’s head had fallen back on its own accord as ceaseless whimpers left her throat._

_Sansa bowed her head to wrap her lips around her girlfriend's nipples, each one at a time, and started to move her lips upwards, pressing a lingering kiss on the inner side of Margaery’s left breast, proceeding to taste the sweaty skin of her chest, and then her neck. She sucked ever so delicately on her pulse, before stopping at her ear. “Margaery,” she whispered, hoping that the way she called her name would let her know how she felt about her._

_Then Margaery was the one to use her hands to pull Sansa’s hair back, while her own head fell forward, their foreheads meeting and eyes locked on one another. Gods, Sansa loved Margaery’s eyes. Loved every part of her, really, but her eyes were something else._

_They were both exhausted and unstoppable, breathing heavily in each other’s mouth. Sansa felt Margaery tightening, and knew she was close. The thrill of all of that, of having Margaery like that, of looking inside her eyes like that, made it almost impossible for her to stop the words that wanted to come out._

_“I… I-”, she started, before being cut by Margaery’s mouth on hers; a kiss just as intense as the one they’d shared when they’d first gotten to the Shack._

_And then Margaery was done, coming on Sansa’s fingers and moaning her name inside her mouth._

_Sansa’s face was buried in Margaery’s hair, floating on the smell of her shampoo while stroking her back with her free hand, when she heard her girlfriend’s voice, mumbling against Sansa’s shoulder._

_“That was the best ever.”_

-

Five days after their sex in the Shrieking Shack, Sansa was feeling more confused and uncomfortable than she had felt in almost eight months - which was the amount of time she had been dating Margaery.

Who happened to have everything to do with the fact that Sansa was feeling that way; her girlfriend had started, inexplicably and out of the blue, to avoid her, ever since the day they had been together at the Shack.

And Sansa couldn’t understand or even suspect _why_. Of course, secretly leaving the school on a Sunday early morning to have sex at an allegedly haunted house in the village they were only supposed to visit on schedule weekends was not very Head Girl material, so she could understand if, after the want was sated, Margaery felt a little regretful. But at the same time, they hadn’t been caught, as Margaery had been so confident they wouldn’t, so Sansa honestly couldn’t guess why her girlfriend had been so _off_ these past few days.

Besides, it had been Margaery’s idea. Better yet, Margaery’s _i_ _nsistence,_ they led them there.

It had been two weeks before. She had just arrived at the Ravenclaw Tower after her patrol, only to find Arya waiting for her.

“I want to show you something but you have to promise you won’t tell anyone,” her sister had whispered, and Sansa had braced herself.

It was a map. She had stolen from Filch's office, during detention - _It was inside a drawer marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous, and the idiot squib left the room to deal with Peeves, who had locked his cat into a vanishing cabinet, and left me alone in there_ \- and had spent weeks trying to figure out how it worked, since every time she opened it, it was blank.

Until she had managed to solve it - she’d tapped the parchment with her wand and recited some words Sansa couldn’t recall, and all of the sudden the map of Hogwarts appeared before her eyes. Except that it revealed places she had never known existed, and passages she had never seen, and little dots that she quickly came to realize represented the people who were at the school.

“What is wrong with you? Why did you show me that, do you keep forgetting that I’m a prefect? I could confiscate this and hand it over to Flitwick.”

Arya had simply chuckled, turning her eyes back to the thing. She knew Sansa would never really sell her out, so Sansa had grasped the map from her and taken a few steps back. She had used the Ignition spell to light a small fireball on the tip of her wand and pointed it to the map.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I won’t. If you promise me you will be discreet about this and not, _ever,_ show it to me. Ever again.”

Arya had rolled her eyes, “Okay. Don’t worry, if someone ever finds out I will make sure they won’t know you knew about it. Your girlfriend included.”

Sansa had to admit Arya had been partially right. She couldn’t be less concerned whether Arya got caught or not, but she most definitely didn’t want anyone knowing she had been aware of it - not only that would look bad for a prefect, it could totally ruin her chances to become Head Girl the next year.

She had been wrong by thinking Sansa wouldn’t want Margaery to find out, though. Because she and Margaery told each other _everything_ , and Sansa trusted her enough to know she wouldn’t snitch on her sister.

So, the very next day, when they were on the Quidditch stands watching Dany’s practice for the Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff match that would happen on Saturday, she told Margaery about the map.

And Margaery had been fascinated and asked if Sansa had seen anything interesting. There was a lot on it, and the only thing Sansa had recalled had been the secret passageway to the Shrieking Shack, underneath the Whomping Willow.

Margaery’s eyes had grown at the information. “This is perfect.”

She had probably seen the confusion in Sansa’s face because she had promptly added in a low voice, “We should go there and have sex!”

It had been Sansa’s turn to look wide-eyed. “What?”

“No one would hear or discover us! We could go this Sunday, early in the morning. No one will know!” She had seemed so happy, and it had stunned Sansa more.

“Are you out of your mind? First of all, it’s against the rules. Second of all, we are prefect and Head Girl, for the Gods' sake! And most important of all,” she had shaken her head, unable to conjecture how such an idea had even crossed her girlfriend’s mind. “It’s _haunted_.”

That had only made Margaery laugh. “It’s not haunted.”

“Yes, it is! People have heard _screams_ coming from inside the house, and no one has been there, ever.”

“I can assure you it is not haunted,” Margaery’s tone was surprisingly earnest.

“How do you know that?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Sansa’s eyebrows had drawn up. “I thought we told each other everything.”

“We do!” Margaery had held her hand. “But I can’t tell you this because it involves someone else’s secret.”

“I just told you about my sister’s secret.”

“Yes, but the one I’m keeping is much more serious than a fifteen-year-old stealing a parchment from the school’s caretaker’s office. I’m sorry honey, I wish I could tell you but I can’t. You’ll just have to trust me.”

Sansa hadn’t been exactly thrilled about it - she was curious by nature and very much appreciated the idea of her and Margaery sharing everything, but she couldn’t _not_ respect what her girlfriend had asked her to. So she hadn’t insisted.

Margaery had insisted, though. A lot, for days, until Sansa finally accepted going to the Shack with her. It wasn’t like the idea hadn’t been appealing to her, anyway. She and Margaery hadn’t had sex nearly as much as they had wished since being together - it was not easy to find a private place where they wouldn’t be found or heard; especially since, ever since the Hallowe’en party, the Room of Requirement had become such a usual spot for students that it was rare for them to use it even for practice.

They had been together a few times, but it would always have to be quick and clothed and, as incredible as it was, it would leave them wanting more.

They had woken up earlier than normal on Sunday and had run to the Whomping Willow as quietly as they had been able to. Maintaining distance from the tree, Margaery had used a magnifying spell to locate a hole in the roots. Sansa couldn’t guess for the life of her how they could get passed the tree’s angry branches, but Margaery had told her she had done some _research_ and had used the Levitation charm to lift a twig and press it into some kind of knot on the base of the tree, and all of the sudden the Willow was paralyzed.

When asked, Margaery had said Professor Lupin had told her about it. And nothing else.

Sansa had been nervous throughout the whole path to the Shack. She'd only relaxed once Margaery was in her arms.

And it had been… _perfect_. Being able to be with Margaery, to take her time with her, to have Margaery take _her_ time with her. To see her naked, for the first time - she had been sure of how silly she must have looked while taking in her girlfriend’s form, but it hadn’t mattered, not when Margaery had seemed to have the same look in her eyes while staring at Sansa’s body.

She had found out Margaery had two dimples on her lower back, like the one she had on her cheek, only just above her perfect firm butt; Sansa had kissed both of them; mirroring how Margaery had spent a while kissing the little freckles spread around Sansa’s back.

They had touched every inch of each other’s bodies, doing things they hadn’t done before but very much wanted to. By the end, they were sweaty and worn out in the very best way, and Sansa felt like something had grown between them.

They had never _needed_ sex to make their relationship what it was. They had always been a little too handsy whenever they were in a somewhat private place, yes, and their make-outs sessions were always a little too intense and they did have sex whenever they could - but they communicated just as well with their words. After the Shrieking Shack, however, it had seemed sex had led them to reach a whole other level of intimacy Sansa hadn’t known they still could after nearly eight months together.

And all she could think of was that she loved Margaery. She had known for a while but avoided thinking too much about it. But coming undone staring deeply into Margaery’s eyes, having her bare skin pressed against her own, taking her slowly and tenderly and then faster and intensely - the reality of what she felt for Margaery, of _how much_ she felt for her, had hit her hard and she had wanted to tell her.

She hadn’t, though. She had decided to wait. Instead, they had dressed each other lazily and made their way back to the school. They wouldn’t see each other for the rest of the day, since both would take the day to study for the exams with their housemates and Margaery had a meeting with the head professors and Dumbledore, and they had a hard time saying their goodbyes once they got to the castle - too distracted by one another and unable to let go.

If only Sansa had known that in the very next day, Margaery would begin to avoid her, she would have enjoyed her a little bit more.

She just… couldn’t understand. Everything had been fine between them, perfect, even. On the first couple of days, she hadn’t realized something was wrong; they hadn’t spent too much time together, due to their obligations; it was June, Margaery’s last month at Hogwarts, and both of them had so many exams, and Margaery also had the N.E.W.T.S, while Sansa was also practicing so hard to get her Apparition license - the exam would take place in three days.

So in the very beginning, Sansa hadn’t had the _time_ to realize Margaery was avoiding her. And once she noticed that her girlfriend was being a little… unenthusiastic lately, she instantly dismissed it, blaming on how occupied and stressed she probably was at that moment.

Until she realized that, unlike before, when Margaery always seemed to make quite a time to be with Sansa, she had stopped making _any_ time for the two of them - their interactions becoming basically almost awkwardly meeting each other in the corridors to catch up on how the day was going.

Until she realized that, when they talked, Margaery was still sweet, yes, but not as sweet as she used to be, and was always in a hurry and always distracted, while whenever Sansa ran into her in the Great Hall she was always so content and joyful, laughing with Dany and whoever else she had with her.

Until she asked Margaery to meet her at the Clock Tower courtyard after class, so they could spend some time together, but was refused with the excuse that Margaery had homework; only to find out later the same day by Arya that she had spent the afternoon playing Owl Racing with her friends at the Stone Circle.

By Thursday, Sansa was royally angry. That wasn’t what she had signed up for - she hadn’t done anything to deserve to be avoided, she knew that well, and if she had, she would’ve expected her eighteen-year-old girlfriend to at least _talk_ to her.

So Sansa simply decided to make things easier for Margaery. When she came to her for their uneventful small talk of every morning, Sansa dismissed her, perhaps a little - _a lot_ \- more roughly than Margaery had ever had, and went on her way. She knew Margaery had felt it - she could feel her girlfriend’s hesitant eyes on her at the prefects' meeting or whenever they stumbled across one another in the following couple of days.

But Margaery hadn’t made a move to ask what was wrong, and neither had Sansa.

So on Friday night, Sansa was in the far back of the library, at the Restricted Section, thanks to the signed note Trewlaney had given her, finishing studying for the Divination test she would have on Monday, feeling worse than she could remember ever feeling, after thirty-five hours without talking to Margaery - at all.

Even though the library would close in an hour, there were still some students there. But that’s how it always was in the last month of the school year; with the fifth, sixth, and seventh years losing their minds and their sleep with whatever exams they would have in the next day or week. She didn’t _have_ to be in the Restricted Section, as she wasn’t making use of any of its books, but in the past months, it had become a habit for her to read there whenever a teacher gave her permission, especially with Margaery, since like that they would have more privacy.

She didn’t know if it was the fatigue or the stress she had gone through in those last few days, but all of a sudden the memory of the two of them together in the library made Sansa’s throat burn.

Okay, so perhaps she shouldn’t have been that rude. Maybe she should’ve made an effort, but honestly, not really. Margaery had been the one to start all of that strangeness between them, and at least Sansa had been clear on how she was feeling; unlike Margaery, who had been passively and slowly snubbing her, speaking to her as if it were an obligation and then giving her a chaste kiss and a lovely smile whenever they went on separate ways as if trying to _pretend_ everything was normal when obviously nothing was.

It was especially hard to concentrate on Inigo Imago’s _The Dream Oracle_ while feeling that hurt and mad and resentful and fearful at the same time. Fearful, yes, more than anything, because - what if things never came back to how they used to be?

She set the book aside and buried her face in one of her hands as a sigh fell from her lips. She started to wonder if she had indeed done something to hurt Margaery. She started to wonder if it would have been preferable to just have left things the way they were, wait until Margaery came to terms with whatever she was dealing with and came back to her old self with Sansa.

But every time she began to think like that, the image of Margaery giggling with her Slytherin friends while being so… _cold_ , or as cold as Margaery Tyrell could be, to Sansa popped into her mind and made her anger come back full force.

She had just picked up her book again when she heard steps coming closer to where she was. She didn’t have to look up to know who it was. That was _their_ table after all.

“Hey.” Margaery’s voice was almost vacillating.

Sansa could feel the frequency of her heartbeat increase desperately but tried her best to hide it. She raised her eyes to her. Just like Sansa, she was still in her uniform - because of the summer, none of them wore their sweaters. Under her cape, her white blouse was a little more unbuttoned than usual - Sansa doubted it had anything to do with the heat, though - below her tie, and her skirt was as short as it was allowed. There were no books in her hands, which suggested she hadn’t been there to study.

“May I sit?”, she all but whispered. She was approaching Sansa as one would approach a hippogriff for the first time.

Taking a deep breath, Sansa pointed to the chair on the opposite side of the table. Instead, Margaery swiftly moved to sit right next to her, their sudden closeness intoxicating Sansa for a millisecond.

Margaery bit her lip, seemingly wondering what to say, before asking, “What are you on tonight?”

Sansa all but rolled her eyes at her attempt to create a normal conversation. “Dream interpretation.”

Margaery scoffed. Her skepticism and scorn towards Divination had actually provoked her to drop the class years before. Sansa normally would tease her about it, how the ever so exemplary Slytherin star had been scared off by a crystal ball and some tea dregs - but today, she didn’t react.

They stayed quiet for long moments, Sansa’s hard eyes on Margaery’s uncertain ones. Until Margaery spoke.

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m sorry for being so distant from you these past few days, and for not explaining why. I know that it must have hurt you-”

“I’m surprised that it took my doing the same to you for you to realize that it does hurt. I would’ve expected more from you.” Sansa’s tone was sharp, and perhaps a little bit too loud considering where they were.

Margaery paused for a beat. “I didn’t think I-”, she sighed, “Of course I knew that you would find the fact that I was a bit absent strange and that you wouldn’t like it, but I honestly didn’t think it would make you so sad, and-”

“You’re saying you genuinely thought that having my girlfriend push me away out of nowhere wouldn’t make me sad? That I would just _find it strange_? Without having any clue of what in the seven hells I did wrong?” Sansa was amazed at herself for being able to keep her voice under control now. She could feel all the negativity she went through those days returning, only now it was all anger.

“You did nothing wrong!”, Margaery was quick, “It was me! I was going through a… stressful moment, I guess, and I haven’t been feeling myself lately. I didn’t try to push you away so much, I talked to you every day-”

“For the Gods,” Sansa shook her head, “You looked very much like yourself when you were hanging out with Dany and the other girls. Owl Racing with them, and everything.”

For the first time ever, Sansa could swear she _almost_ saw a blush on Margaery’s cheeks.

“I didn’t lie to you that day,” Margaery’s voice was firm, though. “I did have homework. But they insisted I came with them and-”

“And how could you possibly deny spending time with the girls who share the room with you every night, right?”

Margaery shook her head lightly. “I wasn’t happy when I was with them, either. I needed to pretend so they wouldn’t question me... I spent time with them to distract myself, and-”

Sansa interrupted for what it felt like the eighth time, “You couldn’t have distracted yourself with me?”

Margaery looked at her directly in the eye. “No. Because you are the reason I have been so… unsettled lately.”

“If you hadn’t told me I wouldn’t have noticed it.” Even though her tone was dry, Sansa felt her heart beating faster at Margaery’s words; how much time she had spent those five days, wondering what could she possibly have done wrong, what could be the reason for Margaery to be treating her like that, she wouldn’t be able to count if she’d tried.

Margaery took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second.

“Ever since Sunday I have been… contemplative. On our relationship.”

Sansa very much hoped her body hadn’t given out how it felt like her blood had stopped running.

“Not that I’m unsure, or confused, about it, no. I want to be with you, I have no doubts regarding that,” she added, and Sansa’s breathing returned.

“It’s just that I-”, Margaery adjusted herself on the sit. “I…”

She seemed to be struggling with her words, which was a first.

Still reluctant, Sansa touched her hand over the table. “Go on.” Her tone softer; although not _as_ soft as it used to be.

Margaery trailed her gaze from their hands to Sansa’s eyes.

“I’m scared,” she confessed.

Sansa tilted her head. “Scared of what?”

“Of you,” she blurted out. “And how you make me feel. I have been for a while, but after Sunday…”

 _Sunday_. On Sunday, they had had sex in the Shrieking Shack and Sansa had realized she loved her. It had frightened her too, but mostly it felt right, and it most definitely hadn’t made her _contemplative_ , whatever that meant for Margaery.

Margaery held the hand Sansa had next to hers more securely.

“I need you to understand that a relationship had never crossed my mind as a priority before. Never. A few years ago, when my friends started dating, I didn’t want that for me. The drama, the distraction, and falling in love to the point where the object of your affection is all you think about… I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be vulnerable to another person like I would see happening to other people. I wanted someone I cared about, someone I could have fun with without… being such a big deal, you know? It was like that with Aegon, for a time.”

“But then _you_ happened and… you became that person to me. I’ve become too attached to you, more than I ever thought I would be to someone, and that scares me. It has been scaring me for months now.”

It was like ice melting inside of Sansa. So _that_ was what was bothering Margaery? She couldn’t think of a more… flattering reason to be avoided. Even if she were still a bit mad. Even if she thought all of that had been unnecessary.

She turned her body on the chair so she could directly face Margaery.

“You say you have been dealing with this for a while, but you'd never acted like it. What made you push me away all of the sudden?”

For a second, Margaery seemed to be gathering some courage, as if she were about to say something she didn’t really want to.

“I figure you would find out eventually,” she muttered while standing up.

She stood between the table and the library’s back wall, her wand in hand, and Sansa couldn’t be more puzzled.

“After we fucked in the Shrieking Shack, I think something… changed.”

Sansa’s eyes widened. So it had been like that for her too?

“Changed? What changed?”

Margaery had never seemed more frustrated than in the moment she raised her wand and recited the words Sansa had seen her reciting a hundred times, “ _Expecto Patronum._ ”

And Sansa _had_ seen her doing that a hundred times, so she knew exactly what to expect: the silver falcon flying out for a minute before vanishing in the air.

But that didn't happen. Instead of the falcon, something else came out of her wand. And Sansa’s jaw fell once she acknowledged what it was.

It was smaller than Sansa’s. Thinner, and less _fluffy_ , if you could call a silver energy force that, but most definitely, the same animal. It was a wolf.

 _Oh_.

Margaery’s corporeal Patronus had changed. It had changed to the same form as Sansa’s, and Sansa knew what that meant.

She had read about it, back when she had begun studying about the charm, so many months before. Guardians _could_ change, for love. Not always, somewhat rarely, yes, but it had happened before. Sometimes two people who fell in love at a young age would end up having matching Patronus, and sometimes - like Margaery, apparently - one’s form would change once they fell in love with someone, to a shape that would match their love interest. It had something to with the happy memory they would use to execute the spell or something like that, but not only that.

Sansa wasn’t sure - it was not exactly common, and there wasn't a lot of widespread research surrounding it. One thing she knew, though.

It was huge. And it meant _a lot_.

The wolf had already faded when Sansa stood up and took a few steps forward. Now Margaery was the one who looked like a creature, a maimed creature, while Sansa advanced towards her.

“Marge, I… don’t even know what to say.” She slid her fingers over both of Margaery’s arms delicately, but Margaery backed away.

“Well, neither did I. Once I saw it.”

She walked away, placing her wand inside Sansa’s book and half-sitting on the table. _Madam Pince wouldn’t like that_ , Sansa thought, but she and all of the students were too far away; they would only see them if they came to the Restricted Section.

“Marge, I can completely see why that would scare you-”

“Does it scare _you?”_ Margaery interrupted.

It was overwhelming, sure, and something she had never expected. But scary?

Sansa smiled. “No.” She neared her once again. “It’s good. It’s really good. It’s comforting to know that you feel the same way I feel about you.”

With their new proximity, helpless eyes snapped up to meet Sansa’s.

“I've told you I don’t want to be vulnerable to anyone, and then this happens…” she sighes, “I’ve never felt like this about anyone and as amazing as being your girlfriend is, sometimes it’s too overwhelming for me. Because it’s everything I’ve tried to avoid, and when I realized my Patronus, that has been a part of me for years, had changed because of you… it was like all my little, little fears had come true. Do you think I make sense?”

Sansa nodded. It was so serious; such a strong magic change because of how you felt for someone, and she didn’t know how she would've reacted. She didn’t think she would’ve backed away in fear and disregarded her for days, though, but she decided not to voice that thought.

“It had been a part of me for _years_ ,” she repeated, “And it’s not anymore, because of my feelings for you.” Her voice held just a hint of what almost sounded like grief. “And I don’t want that. I don’t want to lose myself loving you.”

For a moment everything stopped because - Margaery had said it. She had said the word Sansa herself had been wanting to say and to hear, and her heart skipped so many beats and her breathing labored and -

She realized it hadn’t been romantic at all. It hadn’t, and Margaery didn’t even seem happy about it, so Sansa just inhaled sharply to gather herself.

“You won’t lose yourself with me,” her voice was just above a whisper. “Margaery, you’ve said so yourself that you’ve been happy with me. Nothing will change, not if up to me.” She carefully grabbed her face so she could stare into her eyes.

“I’ll give you whatever time you need to adjust to whatever feelings or doubts you’re dealing with. And I won’t ask from you anything different than what we already have.”

One of Sansa’s hands slowly dipped inside Margaery’s collar, pulling out the pendant of the necklace she wore - always wore. The silver falcon almost gleamed in the low light from the back of the library.

The necklace that Sansa had given her, the year before. She had sent Rickon an owl asking for him to have one of those made by the jewelry vendor at the Diagon Alley stalls when he went there on the weekend; it hadn’t been cheap, but it had been worth it.

“Have I ever given you any reason to be afraid of being vulnerable to me? Has being attached to me ever hurt you or troubled you somehow?”

Margaery shook her head, and when she opened her mouth to say something, Sansa didn’t let her.

“And you most definitely don’t have to worry about changing for me, because I don’t want that. Why would I want that if everything about you is what makes the person I love?”

And then Margaery was still gaped, but made no mention of speaking. After a long moment of contemplation, Sansa saw what she thought was the beginning of a smile, but before she could be certain of it, Margaery’s lips were on hers.

Sansa gladly opened up to the tongue that invaded her mouth. One of Margaery’s hands locked behind her neck while the other slid over her back, stopping at her lower back and clasping their bodies together. Sansa had one of her hands under Margaery’s jaw and the other tangled in brown curls; it was their first kiss in almost three days, their first _proper_ kiss in over five days, and it felt like salvation.

“I do love you.” Margaery murmured, lips still glued to Sansa’s.

Sansa chuckled against her mouth while her body went warm from head to toe. “I know.”

Margaery smiled while Sansa moved back a little bit to make some space between them.

“Can we be okay now? Can you forgive me?”, she pouted, and Sansa bit away a smile.

“I just really, _really_ need you to talk to me from now on. Seriously, Marge.”

“I will,” she retorted, playing with the hem of Sansa’s cape. “I’ve never been like that, you know that. I’ve always valued dialogue when it came to any context. I’ve always been remarkably good at it.” She winked, and Sansa knew what she meant. She was good at talking, at talking people into what she wanted, at using her words to soften a serious subject or smoothly twist the narrative into what was best for her - she had done it to Sansa a few times.

“But so many things are different when it comes to you,” she completed, and Sansa felt oddly flattered again.

They stayed silent for a few moments, until Sansa mused, “I’ve read that when the animal changes it also has to do with how your memory changes. What’s your memory now?”

And just like that, even Margaery’s posture was different. Her signature smirk came to place, and Sansa realized how much she’d missed it - for days.

“Me,” her hand slipped inside the redhead’s cape, stroking her side, “Coming for you that day.”

Even if the mental image sent a shockwave through Sansa’s body, she couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re saying the memory that lets you conjure one of the most complex spells ever is sex?”

Margaery’s eyebrow arched in that way Sansa knew well. “Isn’t that a compliment to you, darling?”

Before Sansa could respond, though, Margaery had fully sat on the table and had pulled her in just like she had pulled her in before and kissed her with the same fervor she had before. With the stark difference that, instead of the previous longing and desperation, the way Margaery kissed her now was sensual and suggestive in a way that would always make Sansa lose a bit of control, always made her hands roam on their own, always took her mind to places that may not be appropriate for where they were at the moment.

Both of Margaery’s hands were buried in red hair. She licked Sansa’s lips, pulled the bottom one between her own, and sucked. Sansa’s hands grabbed her sides, flushing her torso against hers, and when she felt toned legs wrapping around her waist, a voice at the back of her mind brought the question of what they were doing there.

Fifteen minutes ago they were arguing. Ten minutes ago Margaery was sharing her insecurities and five minutes ago they were confessing their feelings for one another for the first time; and now?

“Now?”, she gasped against Margaery’s cheek, “Here?”

“Yes.” Margaery was flushed, her breath hot on Sansa’s face, but the smirk was the same one as before. “Here.” She nipped at Sansa’s lip, and then kissed her cheek, and then her jaw, and then closed her lips around her earlobe.

“There are people here. Anyone can see us.” It was so half-hearted Sansa almost laughed.

Margaery giggled. “There are a _few_ people, four tables away from us. No one _ever_ comes to this section, let alone on a Friday night, twenty minutes before the library closes. Besides, we’re behind this bookshelf.”

Sansa knew it was much riskier than that. Some people did go to the Restricted Section, and Madam Pince or a professor could come and go any time they wanted. And depending on where the viewer stood, the bookshelf did little to hide them. But at the same time…

At the same time, Margaery was grabbing Sansa by the shoulders, and Sansa lost track. They kissed again, hard, and Sansa moved her lips to her neck, slipping her hand inside Margaery’s skirt and squeezing the outer side of her thigh. She sucked on the place Margaery’s neck met her shoulder, clutching her thigh even tighter, and Margaery let out a low moan right in her ear, _just_ the way she knew would make Sansa feel more aroused than she already was.

While Sansa's mouth continued its work on Margaery’s throat, she moved her hands upwards and squeezed her breasts, and another moan left her girlfriend’s lips, just a little bit louder, but enough to startle both of them.

But then Margaery just chuckled, taking Sansa’s wand from her cape’s pocket and pointing it at the direction of the Restricted Section's entrance, without taking her eyes off the redhead, and murmuring, “ _Muffliato_.”

She placed the wand back into Sansa’s pocket and they were on each other again.

When Margaery pulled Sansa’s hips into hers, Sansa laughed against her ear. “I just know I don’t even have to check to know how wet you are for me,” her voice as husky as it could get.

“Neither do I need to check you,” Margaery shot back, and suddenly pushed Sansa off of her.

Sansa smiled, and arched her eyebrow in a challenge, just as Margaery climbed off the table and dragged her by the arms, walking them around the table and pushing Sansa against the bookshelf.

“But I’m curious now.”

She pressed a quick, strong kiss on Sansa’s swollen lips and then descended, attacking the skin of Sansa’s neck just the way she always did: enough to make Sansa love it, not enough to mark her. Sansa didn’t have such self-control, and more than once Margaery had to resort to covering spells.

Sansa hadn’t even noticed Margaery loosening her blue and bronze tie and unbuttoning her shirt before she felt her girlfriend’s hands kneading her breasts. Her head hit the row of books behind her when it fell back, right when Margaery pulled her bra down and closed her lips around her nipple.

Margaery’s tongue was hot around her, and Sansa groaned. “You’re so good at this,” she forced out of her, moving her own hand down to cup Margaery’s left breast. “Almost as good as I am.”

The brunette laughed around her nipple, just before moving to Sansa’s other breast. “Cocky, are we?”, even the way her voice was muffled was sexy. “These have been long days, honey, you’ll have to refresh my memory once it’s your turn.”

She let go of Sansa’s chest, kneeling and pressing a few kisses on the redhead’s stomach through the thin fabric of her blouse.

She lifted Sansa’s skirt, “Hold this for me,” and Sansa felt her panties falling around her ankles.

Sansa’s legs opened automatically, and Margaery stroked her thighs. “Just as I thought,” she teased, and at that Sansa lowered her gaze - only to lose herself even more at the sight.

Margaery looking up at her, her enormous doe eyes with the perfect amount of maliciousness and innocence that only Margaery could accomplish. Sansa realized that while Margaery _distracted_ her, she had unbuttoned her own shirt even more, and the top of her breasts was on display, the green and silver tie landing right between them. And last but not least, her back was curved in a way that let Sansa have the perfect view of her ass; Sansa knew she was doing all of that solely for the aesthetic of it, and she loved it.

Margaery smirked at her, just before lowering her head and doing what Sansa wanted the most.

Margaery simply went to her clit straightaway, lapping at it, and Sansa immediately buried her hand into her hair.

“Fuck, Marge.”

She continued her motions, moving the tip of her tongue in tight rapid circles around Sansa, ultimately falling into the perfect rhythm, and Sansa's hips bucked against her until she _stopped._

"What do you think you're doing?", Sansa almost cried out.

"It’s more efficient if we’re as composed as possible once we’re finished. So button up your blouse, please.”

“What?” When Sansa looked down, Margaery’s eyes were glowing in a way that made Sansa shiver even more amid her lust.

“Button your shirt, with your hands,” she demanded. “Every time you stop, so will I.”

In her current state, Sansa had no choice but to obey. As soon as she got to the first button, Margaery’s mouth was on her again and she realized that it wouldn’t be as easy as she thought, the buttons too big and the buttonholes too small and her fingers trembling too much. She was slow, but as long as she didn’t stop she guessed it was okay.

By the time she was getting to the fourth one she eventually had to pause for a few seconds, too tricky to concentrate when Margaery closed her lips around her nub and moaned. And just like that Margaery stopped again, looking at Sansa like a tamed puppy asking for permission; only their case was reversed.

Sansa groaned, focusing back on what she had to do, and Margaery resumed. Sansa was grinding against her face, making Margaery let out a chuckle-like sound, which only dragged another groan out of Sansa. Margaery’s nails were digging into the redhead’s ass as she slid down, licking into her entrance, and Sansa whimpered.

Her tongue stroked her inside, and again, Sansa stopped - _How many fucking buttons are there_? - and Margaery slipped out, so, so gently nipping at the sensitive skin where Sansa’s inner thigh met her center.

“Margaery, come on,” she pleaded.

At the lack of reaction from Margaery, she knew what she had to do. She began to finish the last buttons and Margaery was back at her core. When her shirt was finally, _finally,_ fully closed, she felt Margaery smirking against her. Sansa commenced rolling her eyes until she was cut by her girlfriend attaching her mouth to her clit more directly again, sucking softly and flicking at it and not letting go until the pressure that had been building slowly inside of Sansa snapped - which definitely didn't take long at all - and she was nothing but a loud trembling mass around Margaery’s face.

Sansa was still focusing on the aftershocks of her orgasm when she heard it.

“Miss Stark, Miss Tyrell, are you still there?”

When Madam Pince’s voice hung in her ears from a distance, Sansa’s eyes went from shut tight to wide in a flesh. _We’re fucked,_ _we’re fucked_ , _we’re fucked_.

But Margaery was so much more agile than Sansa could ever guess, and in a second she was standing with Sansa’s wand in her hand, and with the quickest movements, Sansa was wearing her panties again, her skirt was down, and Margaery's shirt was buttoned up.

She still managed to undo the Muffliato charm and jump away from Sansa by the time the librarian had finally reached them.

“Madam Pince, good evening,” Margaery greeted her with a smile, as if she didn’t still have the taste of Sansa’s cunt in her mouth.

“Good evening. The clock chimed eight o'clock ten minutes ago.” The tone of her voice didn’t let them know whether she suspected what they were doing or not.

“We didn’t notice,” Margaery lifted Sansa’s book. “I guess we were too distracted with all the studying.”

Somewhat recovered from before, Sansa fought the tips of her lips that threatened to curve.

“I see,” Madam Pince said slowly. “Well, the library is closed now. And I think both of you have patrols tonight, aren’t I right?”

And one minute later they were both out the door, all but running through the corridors of the first floor.

“What is it that attracts you the most? Jeopardizing your history as Head Girl or absolutely ruining my chances of becoming one?”, Sansa started.

Margaery smiled as if both of the ideas delighted her. “And just now you wonder that, darling? Where was your mind at before?”

By the time they were getting to the empty classroom where the prefects would meet to decide where each one would patrol that night, Margaery spoke, “I’m listing the places we can go so you can return the favor I did you tonight.”

Sansa laughed. “Really? I for one am planning my revenge.”

“Can’t wait.” Margaery winked.

“Just so I can prepare myself, where do you have in mind?”, Sansa asked carefully.

“The trophy room, under the Quidditch stands, Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, the Forbidden Forest-”

“The Forbidden Forest?”, Sansa jeered.

Margaery smirked. “Hasn’t the Shrieking Shack thought you better than to be a coward?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “It’s different. Those were just rumors, the Forest does in fact have acromantulas, and werewolves and centaurs and all kinds of things.”

Margaery shrugged, “And yet you’re still going in there to fuck me.”

Sansa opened her mouth to protest, but really - who was she kidding?

“Why do I keep doing these things with you?”, she thought out loud.

Margaery raised her eyebrows as if the answer were obvious.

“I thought we’d established that, honey. You love me.”

She brought her lips closer to Sansa’s, pulling her bottom one between her teeth, before sucking on it and letting go. Then she just turned around, walking towards the classroom with a sway of hips.

 _Yeah_ , Sansa recognized.

She did.

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read Harry Potter, the whole matching/changing Patronus thing is real, and it happens to some characters in the series.
> 
> Anyway, comment and kudos if you liked it?


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